


He Lied For A Reason

by MusicLover19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Garage scene, Gen, honestly just a bunch of Stiles thoughts and maybe a bit of angst?, not important or even necessary but that is my minset, possible future Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 16:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicLover19/pseuds/MusicLover19
Summary: Just an insight into Stiles' thoughts during the Garage Scene.“Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?”The world around Stiles seemed to slow down as his mind raced. He looked up to Peter, expecting to see the man laughing or smiling, but finding a solemnly serious look instead. He had to have misheard. It wasn’t possible.





	He Lied For A Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who started watching TW again to try and find my motivation to finish my stories! This one! But also guess who had to replay the whole garage scene because oh boy did I get an idea that needed to be brought to life.

“Whose car is this?” Stiles asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer but still unable to help himself. He talked when he was nervous, and that seemed to ring true when he was scared as well. How could he not be scared? Peter Hale, the Alpha werewolf, the current murderer who was on a rampage was next to him jingling car keys to get into the boot.

“It belonged to my nurse.”

“What happened to your...” Stiles asked, but before he managed to finish his question, Peter had opened the car boot, revealing a _very_ dead nurse. “Oh, my God!” Stiles stepped backwards, bringing his arms to shelter himself a little, but not enough to cover his face. He watched in horror, his arms still raised as Peter lifted one of the dead woman’s arms and took a bag from her before letting the arm fall back to her body.

Peter passed the bag over to him, and Stiles’ arms came around to cradle the bag, hoping that it would be enough to keep Peter’s attention off killing him a little longer. He stubbornly refused to think about the poor woman that had been holding the bag moments before.

Peter glanced between the woman and Stiles a few times before he bluntly said, “I got better.”

Stiles just stared at him in horror as the werewolf closed the boot again. He was a monster. He had to be. How could he not be? He showed no remorse for killing that woman, his own nurse. Stiles continued to watch Peter, unbelieving how callous he was being, how stoic. It didn’t make sense. The person murdering the people connected to the Hale Fire, there was emotional attachment there, but this… Peter was so emotionally detached that it was scary.

Peter took the bag from Stiles, who let it go without any fight. He was too intrigued in the mystery, trying to figure out Peter. Peter who wanted nothing more than to find Derek, his family - his _pack_? Was Derek still his pack? The nurse seemed like the oddball, what had she done to warrant killing? Stiles couldn’t figure it out, and he hated not knowing.

Peter pulled out a laptop from the bag, setting it on the top of the car boot.

“Good luck getting a signal down here,” Stiles quipped, his frustration showing. “Oh, MiFi,” he rolled his eyes as Peter pulled the small box from the bag. He was losing his fear factor with every movement. “And you're a Mac guy,” he pretty much scoffed as Peter opened the laptop. “Does that go for all werewolves, or just a personal preference?”

There was a hint of smugness brewing inside of Stiles with the glare that Peter sent him. It served him right. Stiles’ fear had gone, he couldn’t pull it back and he couldn’t help but imagine Lydia as the dead nurse.

“Turn it on. Get connected.” Peter ordered.

Stiles shook his head, he wanted to snap back, to tell Peter that he was out of line, that it wasn’t fair. He wanted to make it known that one of the people he cared about might be dying and he was dragged away from her to turn a laptop on.

“You know, you're really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here,” Stiles said stiffly. He stepped forward, choosing to take the path of least resistance since it could end better than fighting it outright. Stiles flipped the MiFi box, glancing over the password. “Look, you still need Scott's username and password, and I'm sorry, but I don't know them.”

“You know both of them,” Peter corrected him.

“No, I don't,” Stiles said back. It was a lie, but he thought it was at least somewhat convincing. How Peter had known right away that Stiles knew it, he didn’t know.

“Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying,” Peter had said with a sigh.

“Dude, I swear to God...” Stiles snapped, turning to face Peter. He hadn’t gotten very far before Peter had a hand at the back of his neck, pushing his head down to the car quickly. Stiles groaned as the impact hit, unable to push himself back upright. Still, his fear hadn’t returned, he was barely able to stop himself getting angry. He knew it wasn’t the time nor the place. Peter _was_ dangerous.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles,” Peter said smoothly, and Stiles’ blood boiled at the use of his name. That anger grew as Peter lent down to add a, “Don't make me persuade you,” into his ear.

Stiles knew he couldn’t do anything, not against a werewolf. He wasn’t strong enough. It didn’t stop him envisioning a possibility where he was able to fight back. He considered kicking out at Peter, twisting his body until he was able to get enough room to push himself up and out of Peter’s grip. It wasn’t a regular human though, so the chances were almost impossible. Gritting his teeth, Stiles relented yet again. Peter released the hold on his neck, stepping back to let Stiles stand up again.

He managed to push himself up, trying to keep his breathing steady to avoid his rage growing. He set about logging onto the internet.

“What happens after you find Derek?” Stiles asked, trying to stop himself ruminating on how he could have gotten out of this if Peter wasn’t a werewolf.

“Don't think, Stiles. Type.” Peter snapped, edging closer as he spoke.

Stiles bit his tongue hard. He was trying _not_ to think.

“You're gonna kill people, aren't you?” he asked, closing his eyes for a second before he continued putting the password into the laptop. It had been a string of random numbers and letters, but not too difficult to copy out. They were connected.

“Only the responsible ones,” Peter said, and Stiles looked over to him and only just managed not to roll his eyes. _The responsible ones_ , it was ridiculous. Not that Stiles could judge, if someone had hurt his family, he would be on a warpath of his own. That didn’t mean Peter had the right to involve his family in this.

“Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it,” Stiles said firmly, hoping that Peter would agree. He met the man’s eyes before Peter had looked away and sighed to himself.

“Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?” Peter asked, meeting Stiles’ eyes again, and Stiles couldn’t help the frustration. He hadn’t asked for a lesson, he asked for his friend to be safe. “It's because their favoured prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone,” Stiles looked away, back to the laptop. It made sense, Peter needed their help for the last of it, to get the last revenge against the mastermind rather than the lackeys. “I need Derek and Scott. I need both of them.”

“He's not gonna help you,” Stiles licked his lips. He knew Scott well enough, he wouldn’t budge. There was no way that Scott would be willing to help. Scott wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it, for anything. Whatever reason or leverage someone had, it wouldn’t be enough. Stiles - Stiles wasn’t as strong. He was already happy to let Peter continue on his revenge trail if it kept the people he cared about safe. Stiles could even consider helping - but he wouldn’t be any help. If Stiles had the opportunity, he knew that Peter’s sureness and pain would sway him.

“Oh, he will,” Peter promised. Almost as if answering Stiles unasked question, he continued, “because it'll save Allison.”

Stiles looked back to the laptop again, there was a chance. He had to admit that much. Scott had acted differently when Allison was involved, but Stiles still couldn’t see his friend helping to murder anyone.

“And you will because it will save Scott,” Peter said, and there was so much confidence in his voice that it made Stiles sick. How did he know Stiles so well? How was he seemingly intimate with Stiles’ thought processes? “Your best friend whom you know so well, you even have his username and password.”

Stiles sighed, it was a lost cause. He pulled the website up effortlessly, hating himself even more as he hovered the mouse over the username box. Peter had a point, Stiles would do it to save Scott, he wouldn’t even consider refusing. He sighed again, closing his eyes as he typed out the information he needed to.

“His username is ‘Allison’?” Peter asked in disbelief, even as he saw Stiles type it out. Hitting tab, Stiles typed the password in quickly. “His password is also ‘Allison’?”

If Stiles wasn’t as wound up as he was, he would have laughed at the absurdity. He had the same reaction when he had found out, unable to ask Scott about the lack of logic, because his friend would have changed them both before Stiles would have gotten an answer. However, it felt wrong hearing Peter mock his friend. Scott was _his_ to torment and playfully harass.

“You still want him in your pack?” Stiles ground out, hoping that Peter would admit defeat. Peter only looked away. Stiles went through the motions, tapping on the laptop until it began to trace Scott’s phone to its current coordinates.

“Wait, what the...” Stiles frowned, he gestured to the laptop screen and looked over to Peter. “That's where they're keeping him? At his own house?”

“Not at it,” Peter said, suddenly seeming happier. Stiles frowned in confusion. “Under it. I know exactly where that is.”

There was sudden howl in the distance, and Stiles knew that it wasn’t Scott. _Derek_. The way that Peter had reacted, turning towards the sound with an open expression that Stiles managed to spy before it was away from him.

“And I'm not the only one,” Peter said, and Stiles shivered at his tone. It was distant as if he wasn’t fully aware of his surrounds as he focused on whatever else he could hear. Perhaps a warning within the howl, or just a cry for help. _This_ was the man that cared so much about his family that he would hunt the ones that hurt them down. It was the first true hint of that man that Stiles had seen in the whole time they had been together.

“Give me your keys,” there was such an urgency to the words that Stiles didn’t even hesitate, they were out of his pocket and held out with a sigh before he realised what he was doing.

“Careful. She grinds in second,” he said automatically, used to warning whoever took his keys. Peter reached out, not to take them, but to grasp them firmly and leave the keys bent. Stiles pressed his tongue into his teeth harshly, letting out a slow breath. He tried to remind himself that he wouldn’t survive an encounter with the Alpha is he angered him. His car keys wouldn’t be fixable, he noted, feeling strangely disconnected as he looked at them. He hadn’t had to change the keys since he got it, the keys had never been changed as far as he knew. These keys were his mothers, and now they were ruined.

“So, you're not gonna kill me?” Stiles asked as Peter made his way to the driver’s seat of the nurse’s car. Peter had paused at the question, before turning to stalk back over to him. “Oh, God.”

“Don't you understand yet?” Peter asked. “I'm not the bad guy here.”

“You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you're not the bad guy here?” Stiles quipped back, unable to process just how much Peter had believed his own statement. He seemed to think he was going what was right. That killing these people brought justice, that it altered what had changed, that it eased the pain.

“I like you, Stiles,” Peter said simply, and Stiles resisted the urge to take a step back. It felt personal, intimate in a way he hadn’t thought possible. Stiles let out a shaky breath. Peter seemed to know so much about him, that Stiles didn’t doubt the honesty of the statement. Peter hadn’t seemed to lie to him yet, even if his views were jaded, they had been his honest thoughts.

“Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?”

The world around Stiles seemed to slow down as his mind raced. He looked up to Peter, expecting to see the man laughing or smiling, but finding a solemnly serious look instead. He had to have misheard. It wasn’t possible.

“What?”

“Do you want the bite?” Peter said it slowly and firmly, without even a hint of hesitation.

Stiles could see it, he could see Peter biting him, as he had Lydia. He could envision the pain, the fear, the _longing_.

“If it doesn't kill you, and it could,” Peter said, pausing, “you'll become like us.”

Stiles would be the same as Scott, be able to run faster, to think clearer. Stiles would be stronger. He wouldn’t have to second guess fighting back against anyone that had cornered him. He would be able to help Peter and keep Scott safe. Taking Scott’s place, bringing destruction to those that deserved it.

“Like you,” Stiles said, swallowing around the acidic lump in his throat. He could see it so clearly that it was scary. He would be like Peter. There was no way he could be like Scott, Stiles didn’t have the moral standing. Even as humans, Stiles had always been the darker of the two. Eagerly searching for a dead body, eagerly getting revenge on Jackson when he had managed to contribute to Scott’s broken arm. There would be nothing holding him back. He would be _powerful_.

“Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?” Peter snapped. Stiles could see himself in the man before him. He could see his own anger, distrust and pain. Stiles wanted the world to burn after his mom had died. He wanted the world to _hurt_ every time he came home to his dad drunk after school. Being human kept him in check.

“That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you,” Peter said quickly, stepping closer. Stiles didn’t move back. He couldn’t. “You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals.”

Stiles swallowed, he could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He wanted to reach out and embrace it. He had wished for it. Stiles had wondered so many times why he had been the one to be pulled from the woods, why it hadn’t been Scott. Stiles hadn’t been able to stop himself wishing he had been in Scott’s place. To be powerful, to be popular, to be _better_.

“Or maybe more,” Peter added. He reached down and slowly lifted Stiles’ arm up, bringing his wrist close to his mouth. “Yes or no?”

Stiles watched Peter’s mouth. A single bite. Something so simple and quick. Almost painless from what Scott had said. Adrenaline would kick in, it would heal, and Stiles would be _more_. Stiles would be more than the ADHD riddled teenager who never seemed to do anything right. He wanted it so much. _Yes_ , it would be so easy. So quick.

Peter’s teeth sharpened as he turned towards Stiles’ wrist. On instinct, Stiles pulled his arm back. He was sure he imagined the hurt flash across Peter’s face. That he, himself, was disappointed in his own choice.

“I don't want to be like you,” Seeing Peter in front of him, Stiles couldn’t do it. He was already so much like him, that he didn’t trust himself. Stiles knew of that dark side of him, the part that longed for chaos and pain. He couldn’t give himself that freedom.

“Do you know what I heard just then?” Peter asked, still staring at Stiles. “Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ‘I don't want’.”

Stiles looked away, before forcing his gaze back up to Peter’s. It meant nothing, he tried to convince himself. He didn’t want it.

“You may believe that you're telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself,” Peter said firmly, “goodbye, Stiles.”

Stiles’ mouth opened as Peter turned away to get into the car. The man didn’t stop to hear what Stiles would say - _if_ Stiles would say anything. Stiles was left in the garage, licking his lips as he tried to tell himself that he made the right choice. That it was already too late to call Peter back out of the car to bite him.

Even as the car containing Peter drove away, Stiles still longed to call him back. To tell him that he had made a mistake. Peter had been right, Stiles was lying to himself, but he was better as a defective human than a power-hunger werewolf. It didn’t ease that empty longing.

That longing stayed longer than Stiles thought possible. Even as he ran to the hospital, checking that Lydia was alive and ok. It was in the dark of night that the longing would intensify, that he would think back to Peter’s offer, that he would wish to undo the simple action of pulling his arm from Peter’s grasp. After each threat to Stiles’ family, he would think back on Peter’s offer.

The night that Stiles saw Peter, back in the world of the living, Stiles seethed. He wanted to make Peter _pay_ for making Stiles long so much for something he couldn’t - _shouldn_ _’t_ have. Stiles tried to keep his distance, he tried to stay away but somehow, he kept getting drawn towards Peter. Towards the sly looks, to the snark that was so like his own that it reaffirmed each of Stiles’ worries. It didn’t stop the longing, the desire.

That longing didn’t leave until he had rescued his dad from becoming a sacrifice. That hunger for power, the _desire_ for the world to burn around him, it finally left.


End file.
